


All the Stars in Texas

by IndependenceDayChild17



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndependenceDayChild17/pseuds/IndependenceDayChild17
Summary: "You're the prettiest thing I ever stole."A planned bank robbery leads Laura Hollis to meeting her new partner.





	All the Stars in Texas

She was beautiful.

 

That was what you had first noticed as you scanned the general store, looking for supplies. Her dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and strong jaw drew you in; enticing you long enough for Danny to notice.

 

She elbows you in the ribs, white-hot jealousy flashing across her face. You only roll your eyes in return. Even if the two of you weren’t officially together at this point, dumping the giant redhead would be a mistake destined to get you killed. She knew too much about you: your name, your face, your strategies –

 

Not to mention she was good in the sack.

 

You were just about ready to go, Danny paying for your haul, when the beautiful woman grabs your attention once again. Her dress was richly made, if a bit worn, and the black sleeves were longer than strictly comfortable in the dry desert heat. You watch out of the corner of your eye as the woman looks around, less conspicuously than you would have expected, before snatching a bright green apple from a barrel and storing it in her bodice. You turn your head towards her fully in surprise, catching her eye and making it clear you had seen exactly what transpired.

 

Her eyes widen slightly for a moment; her expression half way between challenging and begging – and you can’t help but turn on the classic Laura Hollis charm. Tipping your hat with a slight smirk, you turn on your heel and run straight into a shelf, knocking down quite a few bottles of ‘miracle elixir’ with a loud distracting crash.

 

The storeowner scrambles over to you, screeching profanities about ‘queers’ and ‘sapphists’ while Danny huffs in annoyance as you begin to clean up the mess you’ve made. The bell of the store’s door rings, and you’re able to look up just in time to see the beautiful woman give you one last look, a perfect eyebrow raised curiously, before gliding away.

 

\---

 

Apparently, the only place to get a drink in this town is a medium sized bordello that sits across the street from the single church. You weren’t particularly troubled by this news, but Danny continuously complained about it – apparently “fallen women” weren’t really her type.

 

It didn’t seem worth it to remind her of the first night you met.

 

But a bar was a bar, and you were not going to stay sober tonight, or any other night for that matter. And this bar was luxurious: gold plating, solid wooden tables, a grand piano, and beautiful, attractive, exotic women lining the walls. You think your mouth might have dropped open – one could never be too sure.

 

Danny lets out an appreciative whistle as you sit down. A man at the piano is playing music you’ve never heard before, but it lifts your spirits anyway. The room is packed with men playing cards and drinking at almost every table. Your eyes travel the wall, taking in the women as you bite your lip. They were just so beaut –

 

“Hey.” Danny snaps a finger in front of your face, clearly miffed about being ignored.

 

You roll your eyes at her, annoyed by her overbearing nature. “I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” You walk away before she can properly answer. You know she wants something and you know she doesn’t much care what it is.

 

“Three shots – whiskey.” The barkeep shoots you a well-meaning smile and starts to pour.

 

“ . . . You are an impressive specimen . . . the primitive by way of the neoclassical . . . I could just eat . . . you – “ You turn (gagging) to see the woman from earlier. She’s stopped her seduction to stare at you with wide-eyed abandon.

 

There is a moment where you just stare back, admiring her beauty, before whatever man she’s with clears his throat. He turns to you, his glare disapproving before turning back to the fabulous creature you are so obviously smitten with. “You were saying, Miss Karnstein?”

 

You bite your lip and she tears her gaze from you, clearly flustered. “I, um – I was just commenting on – ” She smiles at him disarmingly.

 

You clear your own throat. “Miss Karnstein.” They both turn towards you. “Might I have a word?” You smirk at her, “I believe we have some business to discuss.”

 

They both frown back at you. Karnstein lets out a low sigh, before turning to the man, a dazzling smile painted on her face. “Give me just a few moments, Mr. Straka. Then we can get back to our . . . conversation.” She whispers the last word in his ear and you roll your eyes. He looks displeased, but otherwise stalks away to a separate table.

 

 _She_ rounds on you. “What is it you want? I don’t have any money.” You’re taken aback, shocked into silence for the first time in years. Something akin to understanding blooms across her face. “Oh. I see.” She glances up and down your body, taking in the rough trousers, worn boats, and plaid, practical shirt. “You want to fuck.”

 

You laugh.

 

You laugh because its true, but you would never blackmail a woman into pleasuring you; you laugh because she’s even more beautiful when enraged; and you especially laugh, gleefully, with your entire being, because she is so much more than any of that. You can see it in her eyes, the intelligence, the warmth, hidden behind a wall of pain and anger.

 

Once your laughter dies you continue to smile at her. “I don’t want anything from you. I just wanted to pay you a compliment.” You look up and down her body, covered licentiously by the dress, and her face is almost bored until – “I was impressed with your stealth. I’d imagine it’s difficult for someone of your . . . industry to go unnoticed.” She is astonished by the compliment, her face seemingly deciding if she is offended or flattered. You take advantage, holding out your hand in greeting. “My name is Laura. Laura Hollis.”

 

She takes it with a half smirk as you kiss the back of her hand. “Carmilla Karnstein.”

 

Over her shoulder you can see the man from before trudging towards you on the heels of an elegant, older woman. You’re certain she’s the bordello’s madam. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Karnstein.” You hop off the barstool, placing a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek before hurrying away, shots in hand.

 

\---

 

Danny was pissed to put it mildly. As it turned out, the man you had seen Miss Karnstein with the previous night was none other than Mr. Theodore Straka: the wealthiest, most powerful man in this tiny but prosperous town. He owns the land for the town hall, the general store, several shops – even the church – and, most unfortunately for you, the bank you were trying to rob.

 

You and Danny had tried to scope it out earlier, but Mr. Straka barely bothered to take one look at you before threatening to call the sheriff. It would have been easier to convince Danny it wasn’t about Carmilla if he hadn’t called you a “sapphic scoundrel”.

 

Men.

 

His harsh words and lack of respect only incensed you more. At first this bank had just been a job – now it was retribution. But Danny didn’t seem to see it that way.

 

“You’re a goddam fool if you think we’ll be able to hit that bank now.” She’s complaining again. You’d think the woman would shut up after a good fuck, but no – self-righteous to the end.

 

You sigh and roll away from her, yanking on a shirt and pants. “Look, we can figure something out, you just have to give me more time.” You holster your revolver on your hip.

 

Danny sits up, naked in the bed, and runs a hand through her bright red hair. “The longer we stay here the more chance we’ll be recognized. It’s too dangerous Laur.”

 

You huff. Everything is too dangerous now. You’d think she was a fucking spinster the way Danny talked. “I’m going to get a drink.” Danny sighs but starts to get up anyway. You aren’t in the mood. “Alone.”

 

“Aw, come on Laura. Don’t be like – “ the door slams behind you.

 

\---

 

Goddam bordello is still the only place to get a drink in town. You don’t mind the gorgeous women, but having to rub shoulders with the leering “gentlemen” isn’t exactly your idea of fun. But here you are, sitting at the bar, back to the room, three shots of whiskey downed in the last fifteen minutes.

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, sweetheart.” That voice: the rasp; the husk; the lilting playfulness. You spin around, almost falling over in your dizziness. _Carmilla_.

 

You clear your throat. “My, uh, business was delayed by a few days, and it seems this is the only place to buy alcohol in town.”

 

Carmilla relaxes into the barstool beside you with a dark chuckle. “Yes, that’s just the way Madam Morgan likes it; keeps business running smoothly.” She glances around furtively and you notice the bruises around her neck, a too-dark shadow on her right cheekbone. But the marks disappear with a flip of her hair, and her mysterious, mesmerizing eyes draw you in again.

 

You’re just about to gulp down your fourth shot when you remember your manners. “Would you like a drink, Miss Karnstien?” She eyes you suspiciously, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed by the seeming rejection. “I mean, you don’t have to take one, I just thought it might be, well, nice . . . listen, I’m really not – “

 

She grabs your hand, “Slow down, Creampuff.” You feel your eyebrows scrunch at the nickname, but her returning smirk is enough to still your indignation. “I think I would like that very much.”

 

You put your hand up, trying to signal the barkeep, but she grabs it, drawing you close so she can whisper into your ear. “Will you meet me in my room? The more I think of being surrounded by these lackwits the less . . . interested I am.” You feel yourself nodding without conscious thought: the booze and the woman having put you under some sort of enchantment.

 

She smirks at you, her breath tickling your ear. “Up the stairs to the right. There’s a door at the end of the hall. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” She gives you a quick peck on the cheek before floating away.

 

You hurry up the gleaming stairs, golden railing cold under your hand, only taking the time to notice Carmilla whisper into the ear of a dark skinned woman before disappearing out of sight.

 

Carmilla’s room is more opulent than anything you could have imagined. A large mahogany bed takes up most of the space, an ornate vanity stands on the other wall with a silver mirror broader than any you’ve ever seen before on top, but there’s still room for an elaborately carved armoire next to it. Persian rugs adorn the floor, and when you sit on them, the liquescence of silk sheets greets your hands. You survey the room wide-eyed, until spotting the glass decanter filled with dark liquid.

 

You’re just about to pour when Carmilla enters, a bottle and two glasses in hand. You set the decanter down, an eyebrow raised. “Where did you get this . . . ludicrously expensive champagne?” You take the bottle from her as she sashays to the vanity.

 

She smirks, “Champagne was served at the first party I ever attended.” A non-answer then, that was fair you supposed. She pours for both of you before clinking them together. You watch carefully as she takes a sip, her dark red lips staining the glass. You take a large, desperate gulp of your own, the dry burn simultaneously comforting and arousing.

 

“Do you like to dance, Miss Hollis?” She sets her drink down purposefully, striding over to you with an intense, calculating stare.

 

Suddenly she is much closer than you expect, one hand on your hip, the other delicately pulling the champagne from your hand to put it . . . somewhere. At this point you’re not quite aware of anything but her eyes, and her hair, and her lips.

 

She’s saying something to you now, you’re sure of that, but you can’t quite focus on the words. They drift into your ears like a French hymn: blessed and romantic and far too divine for mortal men.

 

But maybe not for women.

 

She spins you, and you’re just intoxicated enough to hide your trip as a smooth attempt at getting her on the bed. Landing on top of her with an almost practiced ease, you stop to stare into her eyes. You know that you want this, but you’re not exactly in the business of paying for sex.

 

“I, uh . . . maybe I should go.” You start to pull away, but she stops you: a soft hand caressing your face; a sad smile.

 

She shakes her head as if confused. “There’s something about you . . .” Your lips fall together into an easy kiss. Her tongue gently probes your mouth and you oblige, gasping at the sensation. Hands come up to tangle in her hair and she lets out a brazen moan. This might have been the greatest kiss of your life if the door hadn’t slammed open.

 

“Carmilla!” The Madam Morgan is an otherworldly force; six feet of pure wrath fall upon the broken sanctuary of Carmilla’s room. You back up at the strength of it, unintentionally leaving Carmilla to fend for herself.

 

“Madam,” Her face is stricken, hands held in surrender, she is backing up, but the room, once so vast, is now a prison.

 

The first strike brings Carmilla to her knees. She is begging now and you can only stand dumbly to the side. The next kick forces the woman into a ball on the floor, curled into herself. You find your hand fiddling with the butt of your gun. The Madam goes to kick Carmilla again, but you’ve had enough at that point.

 

The click stills the entire room. The barrel is pointed directly at Morgan’s head. Carmilla eyes you from the ground – desperate and hopeful. “Miss Karnstein will be coming with me.” Your words are calm, self-assured, but you hadn’t smelled the bourbon on her breath.

 

Madam Morgan cackles, pulling Carmilla up by her hair to face you. “You can’t afford this whore.” She spits. You narrow your eyes. You’d never wanted to kill anyone before, but this woman . . .

 

“Laura . . .” Carmilla’s eyes are pleading, but you’re not sure for what. “Please.”

 

“Carmilla!” A bang. You’re gun goes off, splattering blood around the room. Madam Morgan slumps to the floor next to where your gun has slipped from your hand.

 

Time seems to have frozen. You stare at the woman you shot in cold blood as Carmilla and the dark skinned woman buzz around you. The air of the room feels hollow in your lungs. A single drop of blood slides down Morgan’s chin; her dead eyes stare back at you defiantly.

 

“Laura!” Suddenly Carmilla is there and you blink. The world comes back into focus – or perhaps it was blurring, the killer instinct fading from the front of your mind. “Laura, we have to go now.” Her voice is strained but calm and you nod hazily.

 

She turns away, back to the other woman, and you stare at the gun on the floor for a long moment. You take a breath. It feels the same in your hand: cool and heavy. Its not until later that you notice the blood stains.


End file.
